--> Hackett
has assigned us rescue of SSV Agincourt. Agincourt went missing
behind enemy lines and is presumably damaged and unable to respond:
last reported position was Farinata system.
-->
Agincourt recovered, ship and
crew accounted for and ready for action. Still missing are
the SSV Nairobi, and SSV
Leipzig, the first in the Ming system, the second in Pamyat. I've
offered to take the Normandy in again, and been granted permission.
--> Nairobi
and Leipzig recovered. Leipzig was the first Alliance vessel to
field test the Normandy's Thanix Cannon. Nairobi completely missed
the failed defence of the Sol System. Her captain is eager to amend
the record.
-->
Finding something as small as a ship in space is painstaking
business, especially when that ship is doing its utmost to remain
hidden from hostile forces. Weeks have passed, long enough for
Ashley to get begin walking again, and still the war summit hasn’t
happened. Primarch Victus is patient, but at this point he looks
about ready to put his Turian head through a wall, and I don’t
blame him. This is no time for posturing and petty politics. Every
day that passes more people die. The time for action is now.
At
least Normandy has not been idle. Over the past few weeks, we've not
only recovered the three Alliance ships assigned, we’ve rescued
several other smaller support craft and over a dozen isolated combat
teams trapped in hiding behind enemy lines, besides conducting
reconnaissance and covert strikes against vulnerable Reaper forces as
opportunity permits.
The Normandy is proving uniquely suited to rescue work:
with our superior speed and stealth, we can scout ahead and ensure a
safe rout for a ship that didn’t dare show its nose for fear of
being spotted. Failing
such subtle methods, the Normandy can instead run loudly amok and
play decoy, casting aside stealth and depending solely upon her
fantastic speed to save herself. Joker seems to positively delight
in zipping past Reapers and leading them on a wild goose chase. He’s
even started taunting the Reapers at such times, singing at them a
gleeful song of own devising: “Old fat reaper chasing after me,
Can’t catch S-S-V Normandy. Harbinger, Harbinger, won’t you
stop, stop your reaping and look for me.” If it helps him keep his
nerve while evading certain death by a margin of a few hundred
meters, then let him sing. Besides, I think it really does annoy
them.
I
asked Liara why she had chosen to operate her network as Shadow
Broker from the Normandy when all links were tied in to her ship on
Hagalaz. I was surprised when she told me her ship no longer
existed. She’d taken what she could store in a shuttle with Feron,
evacuated the crew, then rammed the ship into a Cerberus cruiser.
The Shadow Broker’s ship had no long-range mobility, so being found
by Cerberus had been inevitable. Cerberus was clearly not expecting
Liara to so easily part with the vessel. But the loss was a nominal
one; Liara still has all of her contacts and resources, and continues
to utilize the monumental assets with a deft and caring hand.
-->
Ashley has recovered sufficiently to begin physical therapy.
The doctors say she’s past the danger of long-term cognitive
impairment. Given time, she’ll make a full recovery. Thank
goodness. So many people have died already, so many loved ones lost
and so many more yet to die, and Ashley survives. This chance, so
nearly lost, is more than she or I have the right to ask for. We’ve
begun talking. There’s a lot to sort out between us. I begin to
see once again the same light in her eyes that shone there before
Cerberus.
Alliance
intel has tentatively identified Harbinger as one of the Reapers to
attack Earth. The exact numbers of the enemy, ranging across the
Galaxy, are uncertain, but our most optimistic estimates peg them at
about two hundred Sovereign class capital ships, with perhaps two to
three times that number of smaller, destroyer class Reapers, with
assorted troop transports and processing ships. Of course, their
infantry increase proportionately as ours decreases.
When we fought and killed our first Reaper, Sovereign, it took the combined firepower of the entire Arcturus Fleet to bring it down. We’ve upgraded our ships offensive and defensive capabilities since then, due in large part to using tech from the dead Reaper. Now we can overpower a Reaper with far better odds, only four Dreadnoughts being needed to breach its shields.
Only four. Ha. Three years ago
the Alliance Navy only fielded five Dreadnoughts, and they don’t
exactly breed like rabbits. Our improvements have changed the
playing field dramatically; instead of a curb stomp battle of a bear
vs a hamster, we have a respectable losing proposition akin to a
fight between a bear and house cat. The defining principle of
Alliance military strategy, “meet strength with weakness and
weakness with strength,” is as relevant now as ever, but for the
foreseeable future we’ll be exercising the first part more than the
second. Whatever that Prothean device is supposed to do, it had
better be good.
In
the short few weeks since the Reapers hit, we’ve lost Arcturus
Station, the Hades Gamma Cluster, and the Sol system. Hackett
sacrificed the entire Second Fleet to buy the Third and Fifth time to
escape. Anderson and whatever is left of the ground resistance are
on their own. Colonies are being lost faster than we can evacuate
them. Palaven is still in the balance, but that could change at any
time. We need to tip the balance of power in our favour; we need the
Krogan. And if the Rachni intend to deliver on their promise, now is
the time.
--> Emergency
at Grissom Academy. They'd been ordered to evacuate before the
Reapers finally send something their way, and their acknowledgement
has been received: falsified.
Cerberus
involvement is suspected, and the Normandy is en route at full speed.
We've not been assigned, but I'll not wait for that: I've sent in
the preliminary report, and will sort out the official details
afterwards. The last thing I want to hear is that our young officers
in training there have been abducted by Cerberus; I know their
methods: those students would be better off dead.
As
if we didn't have enough trouble on our hands. Damn
the Illusive Man.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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